the karma development center is buried in a bunker fifty feet beneath
the earth in an undisclosed section of the us territories. the facility
is guarded twenty four hours a day by our dedicated help desk workers.
after passing through eight levels of surity clearances, you find
yourself blinded by the strange fluorescent reflection from the
pale dead faces of our development team. you watch in amazement
as they consume massive amounts of kdc provided caffinated product,
yet still fail to meet their deadlines. there is a loud crack as
glass flies all over the room following the explosion of the crt
in a nearby IBM 3151 ascii terminal that one of the staff was apparently
trying to play everquest with. you quickly remove a few fragments
from your eyes and continue walking down the corridor. a look of
awe splashes across your face as you pass the in house ICEE machine.
son, you think to yourself, this is the home of gods. down, now
at the end of the hallway you begin to notice a small sign on the
door. you can almost read it, it looks like the words "project
manager" drawn with magic marker across the "men's"
sign. "what is that smell?", you ask yourself. as you
pass though the entrance you notice some very strange things about
this 'office': the mirror has been replaced with a large composite
rgb display on which you can see a grotesque image drawn with ascii
characters. looking down you watch in horror as your feet are caught
up in the hundreds of entangled wires and data cables, flashing
LEDs and coffee stains that cover the floor.
a voice from one of the stalls calls out to you, "have a seat".
"no thanks", you reply. at this point you proceed to ask
this strange man a series of simple questions. it is, after all,
you: "I don't believe we've been introduced"
potty man: "I don't believe in butter".
you think of another question just you lower your head in defeat.
you:: "why do you work in this men's room?"
potty man: "they don't wash themselves out there. its too
much for me".
you: "well, is there another room that would be better suited
for our interview?"
potty man: "oh, you're the reporter. excellent..."
just as the words leave his mouth your vision begins to fade. as
you slowly regain control of your body you find yourself sitting
in the warm glow of a computer display, reading this senseless document.